The Best Mistake
by PhoebeSnow
Summary: Molly's running late for her blind date and, upon meeting the handsome Sherlock, she's sure that her bad luck with men has finally changed. There's just one problem. He isn't exactly who he says he is... Cover art by simplyshelbs16!
1. A Lovely Stranger

Sherlock had finished a case less than an hour ago and was utterly famished. Luckily, there was a new restaurant that had opened nearby. It was called Jacquard's and from what he'd heard about it, the food was pretty good.

The detective went inside and decided to eat at the bar, but all of the seats were full. So regrettably, he was forced to sit at a table. It was annoying, but his stomach desperately needed nourishment, so he acquiesced. After opening a menu and briefly looking at the contents, he ordered a steak with wild rice pilaf, a side salad and a glass of water.

After the waitress left, Sherlock's mobile began to vibrate and he saw that John had just sent him a text.

 **How'd the case go? -JW**

 **Perfect. The sister drowned her twin in the Thames and attempted to take her place. LeStrade and the rest found her back at her old flat. She left some photos there that she forgot to burn. A small mistake that turned out to be her undoing. -SH**

 **Ah, I hadn't thought it would be the sister. Well, then. I assume everything's all wrapped up? -JW**

 **It was all a matter of observing, John. I think you were inclined to think better of her because she was so attractive. She knew that and exploited it. -SH**

 **So you're saying I was taken in by a beautiful woman? -JW**

 **A beautiful woman who also happened to be a homicidal manic, but don't worry about it. -SH**

 **You're a pain in the arse. -JW**

 **And yet, we're still friends. -SH**

 **Oh, don't think I'm not concerned for my mental health when it comes to that. -JW**

Sherlock smirked and was about to respond, but sensed that someone was coming to his table. At once, he looked up to see an attractive woman in her mid thirties walking over.

She wore a soft yellow blouse and black slacks. Her hair was long and wavy and she wore light pink lipstick and a bit of rouge that gave her face a lovely splash of colour. Sherlock was surprised to find himself taken off guard by her beauty.

 _What a lovely stranger._

"I'm so sorry I'm late. The person who takes over the night shift at work was late and I had to wait for her to get there before leaving." She moved a strand of brown hair out of her face and smiled at him. "Anyway, I'm here now and I hope you won't hold it against me. So, you're William? I'm Molly. It's nice to meet you."

Sherlock's brow furrowed and he was going to ask this woman how in the hell did she know what his first name was when he realised that she'd mistaken him for someone else.

From the sweat at her temples, she was clearly nervous and the way she'd awkwardly walked up to the table showed that she wasn't used to wearing high heels often. Not doubt she wore them tonight because she wanted to appear taller than she really was and impress her real date, wherever he was.

Even though Sherlock knew he should have told her that he was not, in fact, her blind date and that she'd made an error in coming to his table, something stopped him. Perhaps it was a lack of his conscience, but whatever the reason, Sherlock quietly decided that he didn't want to eat alone.

Sherlock had been so lost in his thoughts that he failed to realise that Molly was holding out her hand and starting to look a bit worried that he hadn't taken it. Quickly, he reached over and gave her a firm shake and smiled to reassure her. "Right. Of course. It's a pleasure to meet you as well, Molly."

Thankfully, the crease between her eyebrows softened and her face brightened up again. "I'm just glad you're still here."

"Well, after you kept me waiting, I began to think that you stood me up, so I went ahead and ordered dinner." Molly twisted her lips in regret and Sherlock scrambled to soften the blow. "But I know what it's like when things unexpectedly happen. So please, don't worry about it. When the waitress comes back, I'll ask her for a menu."

"That's okay. I already know what I want." There was a bit of shy flirtatiousness in the way Molly said that and Sherlock found himself smirking. Normally, he could care less about flirting and teasing with the opposite sex, but for some reason, this woman compelled him.

To be honest, he had a feeling he'd like her.

"Oh, do you?" He lowered his voice and smirked at her, enjoying the light blush that appeared on her face.

"Yes. My friend owns this restaurant, actually. He also gave me a sample menu of what they serve here and asked if he needed to add or remove anything because he says I have great taste in food."

"And were you able to help him?"

"A bit. I suggested that he add seafood and vegetarian choices for people who want something a little different."

"Sounds reasonable."

"He thought so too."

It was then that the waitress came back. "Hello, can I take your order or do you need a menu to look over for a bit?"

Molly smiled. "No, I don't need one, thanks. I'd like the chicken parmigiana with a glass of red wine, please."

"You got it." The waitress nodded to Molly and took off again.

"Playing it safe?" Sherlock asked.

"I'm sorry?"

"Chicken parmigiana isn't too expensive and it's one of the easiest dishes to order because it doesn't take a long time to make. You didn't ask for a side and red wine is not a costly beverage in restaurants like this." He cocked his head, observing her carefully. "If you were concerned about emptying my pockets, don't worry. A night out at a restaurant like this won't break me."

A light blush appeared on Molly's cheeks and she bit her lip. "Sorry, I guess I'm feeling a bit nervous. The last date I went on was pretty bad. It was with my ex, Tom. He barely had enough money to pay for his own meal, let alone mine. And he asked me to pay for dinner, which I did, but it was so embarrassing because that wasn't the first time it happened."

Sherlock raised his eyebrows. "You mean he asked you to pay for dinner on more than one occasion?"

"Yeah! At least six times because his card had been declined. Now that I think about it, I really should have broken up with him before that. He never cared about doing things I wanted to do. I met his friends, some of his family and even participated in some of his hobbies, but he had no time for me if I wanted us to do something that I liked. It was a relationship only on his terms."

"He may as well have been single, then. That kind of "relationship" does nothing good for anyone. Your ex was clearly an idiot."

"You're preaching to the choir. And you know what else? He wasn't even that good in bed." Molly grinned and then, she stopped, covering her lips with her hand. "Oh, my. I can't believe I just said that."

"I don't see why not. If your ex - Tom, was it?" - she nodded - "was unable to satisfy you in more than one level, you were well within your rights to break up with him. What you need is a man who can match you intellectually as well as emotionally and physically."

Molly's cheeks seemed to grow a bit more red and Sherlock frowned, wondering if he'd gone too far. "Is something wrong?"

"Ah, yes. I'm fine. I just need to go freshen up." She took her clutch in hand and sent him a disarming smile.

"Oh. Alright."

"I won't be long."

The moment she was out of sight, Sherlock blew out a breath of air that he hadn't realised he'd been holding in. Molly was interesting and that was a rarity, since most people bored or annoyed him. Perhaps it was the loneliness in her eyes when she talking about her ex boyfriend, the clot.

As Molly spoke of her failed last relationship, Sherlock understood that she needed an equal, someone to be around who could relate to her in ways most people couldn't. She needed a foil and he could empathise with that. Sometimes, he felt the same way...

His mobile buzzed right then and he read the text John had just sent him.

 **Mary wants to know if we should place a setting for you? -JW**

 **No, enjoy your evening together. I'm having a dinner date. -SH**

 **Wait a minute. You're on a date? With an actual human being? -JW**

 **Yes, John. -SH**

 **That's it? Aren't you going to tell me what she's like? -JW**

 **When I get to know her better, I'll let you know. -SH**

 **When you get to know her better? -JW**

 **Try not to repeat everything I say, John. It's quite tiring. -SH**

 **Fine, but I expect you to tell me every single detail when it's over. -JW**

 **Haven't you ever heard of the expression "I don't kiss and tell"? -SH**

 **But you never kiss! Anyone! -JW**

 **Good night, John. -SH**

With that, Sherlock turned off his mobile and tucked it away in his pocket. He felt a twinge of guilt for lying to Molly because she really wasn't his date and he was taking liberties in a most callous manner. She thought he was another man named William - although, his first name really was William, so that was a funny coincidence - and he was taking advantage of her in a way.

Hopefully, he'd be able to get away with it because Molly intrigued him and he wanted to get to know her better. When she returned a few moment later, their food had been placed on the table and they began to eat.

It was silent for a bit while they ate their food, but once Sherlock swallowed his third bite of steak, he asked, "So, you've never done this before, have you?"

"How did you know?"

"Your forehead has been perspiring and since you've come from the restroom, very likely to calm your nerves, but the sweat is a sign that you haven't completely gotten rid of your anxiety."

She crinkled her nose. Sherlock thought it was cute. "That's a good observation. Does it come naturally or did you just figure that out at random?"

"Naturally. I make a lot of deductions in my line of work."

"Are you a cop?"

"Consulting detective. I help the police when they're out of their depth, which is almost always."

"I'm guessing you're good at it?"

"Oh, I am."

Molly folded her arms on the table and turned her head to the side, watching him closely. "Mm, you're very cocky."

"So I've been told."

"Well, I can see this is going to be an interesting evening."

Sherlock raised his glass to his lips and smiled. "I was just about to say the same thing."


	2. Caught

_Molly finds out._

* * *

Molly was glad to have been proven wrong about William. She'd been dreading this date before arriving at Jacquard's and assumed that it would be a disaster like many others. How nice it was to enjoy herself this evening. William was a very intelligent man and he had many fascinating cases as a consulting detective. Not only that, but he was very interested in her career.

That was a big point in his favor since most men were turned off by her profession. Pathology, Molly found, was not an attractive thing to discuss with normal people. So, she considered herself lucky that she finally met someone she could talk to about post mortems and not worry about him throwing up or running from her in terror.

Another wonderful surprise she discovered was that, as a consulting detective, William often frequented the hospital nearest him, St Bart's, which just so happened to be where Molly started working at recently.

"You must know Mike Stamford, then."

"Of course."

"Well, he said the head pathologist plans to retire very soon, possibly next month. After that, I'll be able to take over, but for now, I'm mainly doing paperwork and staying during the late shift when most people have gone."

"I'll see if I can help you with that. The current pathologist at Bart's is a terrible pain in the arse and he's incredibly difficult to get along with. The man has thrown me out on several occasions and raises hell every time I request body parts for my experiments."

Molly furrowed her brow. "Oh, no. That's awful. I've had a few run-ins with him myself, so I completely understand. He has a hostile nature, but I suppose that's a good thing for his patients, since they're already dead." They both laughed and Molly ate a piece of her raspberry tart.

"He resents you because you're going to replace him. That aggressive territorial attitude has also done nothing to endear him to others over the years. In my opinion, Bart's has a superior pathologist already in hand. You'll brighten the place up considerably. It'll be a pleasure to see your face there when I need help for a case."

Sherlock's words brought a smile to Molly's face and indulgently, she reached across the table and touched his hand. "Thank you," she whispered.

He stared down at her hand and gently squeezed it before looking up at her and returning that smile with one of his own. "You're welcome." They gazed at each other wordlessly, savouring this intimate moment. Sherlock opened his mouth to speak, but Molly's mobile rang before he could speak.

"Hold on." She gave him an apologetic look and pulled out her phone. Then, her face brightened when she saw whose name was on the screen. "Oh, it's my friend, Mary. Well, our friend. I'll have to thank her for setting us up because I've had a lovely time."

Wait a minute. _Our_ friend?

Questions began to circle around in Sherlock's head. No. It couldn't be Mary Watson. There were more than a hundred Marys who lived in London, so the likelihood of John's wife being on the phone was very slim. Or was it?

Sherlock briefly went into his mind palace, searching for any reference of a woman named Molly whom Mary might have mentioned recently. Within seconds, he found one. It had been earlier yesterday. Mary and John had come by Baker Street for a visit with baby Rosie in tow.

While Rosie had been playing with Sherlock's pocket magnifier, Mary received a call from a friend and she stepped in the kitchen to take it, but Sherlock had very good hearing. Without meaning to, he heard Mary talk in low tones with an even voice. Evidently, she had been trying to calm someone down.

"Molly," she had said. "I promise you, this guy is sweet. He'll like you and you'll like him. No, I am not sending you a picture of him." A pause. "Because it's a blind date, that's why. What's the point of knowing what he looks like if it's supposed to a blind date?"

After that, Sherlock ignored the rest of Mary's conversation - not because he felt badly for listening in, but because Rosie tugged on his pant leg, indicating that she wanted to be picked up.

Pulling himself out of his mind palace, Sherlock looked down at the creme brûlée on his plate and soberly, began to finish eating it. Now that he knew the truth, it was only a matter of time before Molly did too.

"Hey, Mary! Listen, thanks for setting this blind date up for me. I've haven't had this much fun in ages. William is nice." Molly's eyes sparkled, but as the woman on the other end of the mobile responded, an expression of confusion spread on her face. "Wait a minute. Slow down. What are you saying?"

In a handful of seconds, those beautiful brown eyes of hers widened in shock and she looked at him with a stare that could burn a hole in wood.

"Mary, what exactly does William look like?" A pause. "Because I'm sitting with a man who is definitely **not** my blind date."

There was more silence until Molly spoke up and ground out, "I have no idea, but I'll ask him now." She lowered the phone, but kept it near her face as she said, "Obviously, you're not William. So, _who_ are you?"

Sherlock interlocked his fingers together, placing them on the table. "My name is Sherlock Holmes."

"And are you a consulting detective? Or was that a lie, too?"

"I _am_ a consulting detective and everything I've told you tonight has been the truth. The only thing I misled you about was my name, although it really is William. I just go by Sherlock."

"Oh, and that makes it all better, does it?" The bitterness in her voice made a knot form in Sherlock's stomach.

"I would never presume to think that, Molly."

"And why not? You already presumed another man's identity and even if you happen to share his first name, how do I know you're not just lying? You could be a murderer or a rapist or some other kind of criminal who likes preying on innocent women."

"You're jumping to conclusions. Look, if you need proof of who I am, go online and type in my name. I'm certain you'll see pictures of me if you haven't already."

"Seriously? You think I'm just going to type Sherlock Holmes on the internet and find pictures of you? What are you, some kind of celebrity?"

Sherlock nodded. "You could say that."

"Oh, please. I-" Molly stopped talking when the woman on the other end of her mobile began speaking. After several seconds, she huffed. "Are you sure?"

The glare was still on Molly's face as she handed Sherlock her mobile. "Mary wants to speak to you."

Wordlessly, Sherlock accepted the phone and held it to his ear. "Hello?"

"My God, Sherlock. You have really stooped low this time!"

"Mary. You were the one who set Molly up on a date." The words came out as a statement, not a question.

"Yes, I did. A date that you barged in on! I can't believe you let her think you were someone else! I'm disappointed in you!"

"Wait a minute. How do you even know Molly?"

Mary sighed. "We were roommates at uni. Shared a lot of the same classes, so we became pretty good friends. We still are, obviously."

"But you never mentioned her before."

"That's because she moved to Dublin to be with her father. He died a few years ago and she's just now come to London to be the head pathologist at Bart's. God, why am I even telling you this?"

"Molly already informed me of these things herself, Mary. You haven't done her a disservice."

"I know I haven't, but _you_ have. Now, listen, does Molly like you?"

"Actually, I'm pretty sure that she hates me at the moment."

"No, you git. I heard the way her voice sounded when she thanked me for setting her up. She likes you. That's probably why she hasn't thrown her drink in your face and stormed out."

"You have a point. So what now?"

"I know you pretty well. You're not a man who just lies about who he is for no reason. I think something about her caught your interest and you like her back. God knows she deserves better, but this can still be salvaged."

Sherlock refused to admit anything about his blossoming feelings towards the lovely woman who sat across the table from him, but he couldn't deny his attraction to her. A foreign heaviness weighed on his chest and he felt a little desperate.

 _I don't even have her, but I don't want to lose her._

"What do I do?"

"Let Molly know that the reason you pretended to be her date is because you're genuinely interested in her. Sincerity is your only hope right now. But first, hand the phone back so I can smooth things over for you."

He did as Mary told him, feeling like a total arsehole from the angry glare Molly sent in his direction. Minutes passed while she held the phone to her ear, listening to Mary. The stiffness in Molly's shoulders dissipated and her face softened a bit.

Sherlock had no idea what Mary was saying on the phone, but he knew that however this night ended, he would owe her a lot.


	3. Chances Are

_Sherlock gets the girl._

* * *

When Molly finally hung up, Sherlock was able to breath more evenly.

She put her mobile away and observed him closely. "According to Mary, you're not a bad guy and I should give you a chance."

"I know."

"I don't appreciate my date being hijacked by you, but if Mary says you're okay, then I trust her." Molly was silent for a moment and gingerly reached across the table, taking his hand in her own. "I've had a lovely time tonight."

"So have I." Sherlock was surprised by the action, but he didn't pull away. "I'm sorry for lying to you about who I am, but if I had to do it again, I would. I find your company delightful."

Molly looked at their connected hands and shook her head, chuckling softly. "It's strange. I'm still angry at you, but glad that I came tonight. I...I feel safe with you."

"I take it that's good news?"

"For you, definitely." Molly's eyes sparkled and she cleared her throat, drawing back. "Well, I've finished my dessert. Shall we go?"

"Oh, yes. Of course." Sherlock stood up, missing the warmth of her hand encompassed in his and hurried to pull her chair back. After the way he lied to her, he was determined not to drive her away, so gentlemanly characteristics were going to be put to use.

When they walked over to the cashier desk, Molly began to take out her wallet, but Sherlock refused to let her spend her money. "No, please. Allow me. It's the least I could do after misleading you tonight."

The look in his eyes told Molly that she'd have a better chance of trying to stop the sun from rising and setting than to stop him from paying for dinner, so she just nodded and put her wallet back in her purse.

Later, when they were outside, Sherlock hailed a cab, Molly gave the driver her address and they were on their way. It was quiet for a bit, but finally, she spoke up. "So you and Mary are friends."

"Yes. Although, I met her husband, John, first. His presence in my life is something that I am very grateful for."

"Why is that?"

"I used to be pretty dismissive of people in general. The only thing I believed to be gained from others besides myself was their assistance - if they had the intelligence to help me - with my cases. Otherwise, they weren't worth my time. I was a pretty self involved arsehole as John had often called me. You see, for the longest time, I felt that attachments, whether platonic or romantic, were dangerous as they allowed sentiment into one's life. In my eyes, sentiment was a chemical defect of the losing side."

Molly stared at him in shock, finding it hard to believe that he was once like that. "So you never had a relationship with anyone, ever?"

"Yes, but that is all in the past. For all of my bluster about love being a weakness, I slowly began to realise that it's not a bad thing at all. Having someone in your life who truly cares about you and whom you care about is a strength. Certainly, there will be times when they let you down or hurt you, but that's not a reason to run from them or stave off meaningful connections with people. What is life if it cannot be shared with someone else?"

"No man is an island entire of itself."

"John Donne. You know your poetry."

"I was a bit of an amateur poet in my early twenties. I wrote some too, but I mostly just read them now."

"That doesn't surprise me a bit. From what I've learned of you tonight, I sensed that you had an expressive soul beneath that shy exterior."

"I think you had something to do with that, too. There aren't many people who I'm comfortable letting down my walls for. You're an exception."

"Then I will do my best to be worthy of it."

Molly smiled and scooted closer to him, pecking his cheek softly. "Thank you."

Sherlock felt his skin warm and he took her hand in his. To his relief, she didn't pull away, just leaned her head against his shoulder and they spent the next several minutes in silence.

Before long, they pulled up to Molly's flat and she smiled at Sherlock tentatively. "Would you like to come up for a nightcap?"

"Well, it's kind of late."

"What happened to that bold man I was having a date with earlier?" Molly gave him a mischievous smirk and raised her eyebrow.

"He's a little nervous."

"I don't bite." She held out her hand to him and, after a short deliberation, he took it. In the next few minutes, they made their way up the steps and into Molly's flat.

"May I take your coat?" Molly smiled at him and helped take off his belstaff and hung both it and his scarf on her coat rack along with her own outer clothes.

"Thank you." Sherlock smiled back.

Once Molly turned to face him again, she said, "I'll just put the kettle on," but before she could do more, Sherlock caught her hand.

"You didn't ask me in for a cup of tea."

"Yes, I did. Unless you'd like coffee instead."

"No, of course you did say tea, but your entire manner says you wanted me here for something else entirely."

Molly's pulse at her neck began to throb and Sherlock smiled upon seeing it. "And what exactly do you mean?"

"You've bit your lip, played with your hands and glanced at me in the corner of your eye several times from the distance we walked between the curb outside to the door of your flat. Not mention the fact that you've been breathing quite heavily since we came inside. Each were clear signals that you're considering doing something you've never done before."

"So?"

"You were hoping to get lucky on a first date. Or a blind date or hijacked blind date. Whichever sounds easier." Sherlock smirked briefly when Molly's cheeks turned bright red.

"I suppose I jumped to a conclusion, then?"

"Oh, don't do _that_."

"Don't do what?"

"Play the coy female. It doesn't suit your personality."

"No, I suppose not." Molly walked to her sofa and leaned against the arm. "You deduced me perfectly. So, what comes next for us?"

Sherlock stood in the same spot, watching Molly carefully before silently making a decision. He strode over until he was inches away, then he cupped her face in his hands and brushed his lips to hers.

It was a soft kiss and tentative, as if he wanted to make sure he didn't go too far. However, Molly's moan and the gentle slide of her fingers reaching up to bury themselves into his curls told him that he could push a little more. Their lips moved about passionately, bodies now crushed against each other, breathing erratic, senses heightened.

Sherlock gripped Molly's sides and his hands moved southward to navigate the expanse of her body. She was petite, but she had a very lovely figure. Shamelessly, he grazed her hips, thighs, and buttocks, growling his approval.

Molly liked hearing that sound from his lips. There was something primal and possessive about it that aroused her even more. She brushed her chest against his own in reciprocation and the hardness she felt through his trousers made her moan in delight.

When they finally pulled back to breathe, Molly chuckled. "Mm, I think you're a keeper, Sherlock Holmes."

"Interesting," Sherlock replied. "I was about to say the same thing about you."

She grinned and took his hand in hers, leading him to her bedroom. "You know, I'm still mad at you. Lying to me the way you did. It's still not a nice thing to do to a girl." Kicking the door shut behind her, Molly leaned forward and nibbled on Sherlock's neck before pushing him onto the mattress.

"Then I'll have to make amends for my wrongdoings," he replied huskily.

Molly laughed, removing her blouse and pants before climbing onto Sherlock and sliding her hands around his neck. "Oh, certainly. I think it'll be very rewarding for you, though."

"Of that, I have no doubt."


	4. Making It Official

_Molly and Sherlock become a couple._

* * *

Molly felt the sun's rays shining on her skin and the warmth made her smile. Slowly, her eyes began to open and she realised that Sherlock wasn't in bed next to her. She sat up and looked at the ground where she'd tossed his clothes last night in a hurry to disrobe him.

His clothes were no longer there.

A rush of panic went through Molly and she covered her mouth, trying to think. What if Sherlock just wanted to sleep with her and leave? Had she just been the subject of a hit and run of the sexual variety? Had he lied to her last night when he held her in his arms and told her that he knew she was special?

Molly closed her eyes and placed her hands on the sides of her head. There was no way. After the wonderful dinner and the mind blowing sex they had last night, she refused to believe that.

Sherlock had been so gentle with her as she let him into her body. Every touch, every caress, had set her senses out of control and the extent of her desire floored her. Could he really have left her after making her think she meant something to him?

"You're awake," said a voice.

She opened her eyes and saw Sherlock standing at her bedroom doorway. He moved to sit on the edge of the bed and placed a covered tray on her nightstand.

"Sorry for leaving you, but I woke up early and figured you'd like to have something to eat."

Molly chuckled and shook her head. "Oh, God. I'm so ridiculous. For a moment, I thought you left and were never coming back."

Sherlock furrowed his brow. "You thought I just wanted to sleep with you and take off before you realised I was gone?"

"Yeah. It's stupid, I know and it's not as if you belong to me or anything. I just feel like we connected in a way that was even beyond the physical." She covered his hand with hers and smiled when he squeezed his fingers gently.

"You're not alone, Molly. I feel something between us, too. A bond of sorts, and I don't think of this as a one time thing. It's so much more. I'm...probably going to be rubbish at this, but I was hoping that you might consent to be my girlfriend."

Hearing those words from his lips made Molly's heart soar and she touched her forehead to his own, nuzzling their noses. "I thought you'd never ask. I'd love to be your girlfriend, Sherlock."

Several minutes passed and they stayed there in a warm embrace, just happy to be be in each other's arms. Eventually, Molly pulled back to look at the tray Sherlock had brought.

"So, what did you bring me to eat?"

He pulled the cover off, revealing two glasses and a plate of food. "There's apple juice and water since I didn't know which you'd want. I'm not an very experienced cook, but I made an omelette. It's stuffed with plenty of ingredients, so you won't be hungry after eating it."

"Thank you, Sherlock. That was sweet of you, but I'm not hungry right now." Molly slid her hands around his neck and nuzzled her nose to his before kissing him gently.

Sherlock moaned into the kiss and that gave her confirmation to continue. She dug her fingers into his ebony curls - God, she **loved** his hair - and tugged him down until his body covered hers. Then she ground her hips against his, stimulating him and making blood flow straight to his groin.

"So I see. You're not hungry for _food_." He looked at her with a smirk as she helped divest him of his clothing. In mere seconds, he was naked and what a glorious sight that was for her eyes.

"Not for food, just you. But we can reheat the plate later." Molly whimpered when Sherlock palmed her breasts and kissed the curve of her bosom. The affection he showed her made her tremble and writhe beneath him.

"Yes, thank goodness for technology," he replied with a wink before sliding his other hand down to where she was wet and needing. Tenderly, Sherlock stroked her, pushing upwards until he found that little button of pleasure. He focused entirely on it, rubbing and flicking against it, taking note of how she responded to his ministrations.

It didn't take her long to climax and after she cried out, shouting his name and fell back on the pillow with sated breath, he gave her another kiss.

"That was amazing. Your fingers are like magic!" Molly laughed and pressed a hand to her heart, beaming up at him.

"Thank you. I do play the violin, so that might be why they're particularly dexterous."

"And you certainly played me like your instrument."

"With relish, I assure you."

"Mm, let's see if I can return the favour." Molly grinned wickedly at him and began leaving wet kisses on his chest, moving down until she reached her destination and the things she did with her tongue made his eyes roll in the back of his head.

Needless to say, they didn't leave the bed until early afternoon.


End file.
